


Red vs Blue Oneshots & Drabbles

by orphan_account



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: I'll slowly add more tags depending on what characters I write basically, Just a clusterfuck of writing whatever I feel like, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, idk how canon accurate some of this shit is, please request fic ideas though !, these are really bad and. how you say. cringe ! dont mind me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I'm pretty late to the Red vs Blue party huh? Anyways, just a collection of oneshots and random drabbles that I write when I feel motivated to. Also I'm taking requests.
Kudos: 11





	1. Caboose/Reader - Chilly Cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if I suck at this, I haven't written fanfiction in 3+ years and felt the urge to do so after finally watching Red vs Blue. Yes I know I'm late to being into it. I'll update this whenever I get inspiration and I'll update tags as I write more and use more characters. These are literally just random things I write at 3 am usually without any editting and just slap them down here. And forgive me for this first one for being a bit short, was just testing out writing again and had a cute short idea! 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this cute Caboose/Reader I wrote.

The air seemed much more dry and chilled than usual when you woke up, a grumble surfacing in your throat at the feeling of cool air on your ears and face registering in your brain, reminding you it was winter. It had woken you from a rather pleasant slumber too. Pulling the blanket more over your head to shield yourself from the unpleasant chill, you didn't even wonder why the abrupt chill had settled in. 

Probably the Reds as usual, probably for whatever absurd reason fiddling with the AC and breaking it last night. You could almost hear the situation in your head, an amused huff leaving your nose as you could almost hear Sarge barking orders or Grif deciding instantly that it wasn't worth the effort. As much as you sometimes found yourself irked by the Reds and Blues, as well their many...strange to be put simply, friends and acquaintances, you did find yourself fond of the rag tag assortment. And glad to have met them and to be there for those misadventures.

Lopez would likely fix it by the time you woke again, you figured as you curled your legs more into your abdomen, drifting back to sleep. The sun wasn't even up, signifying it was far too early to be waking now. Your thoughts lingered on the crew as you did drift.

You were startled awake though as you heard your room door being slid open, followed by foot steps that drew in half way closer, before stopping. By now you had subconsciously memorized each of their foot step patterns; for instance, Tucker's was confident, as well not too heavy nor too light sounding. Donut's was more fast paced and light. And so on. 

These sounded heavy, not in an intimidating way though. Almost clumsy, not focused. Caboose?

"Hey, ah, Y/N?" Yeah, that was Caboose alright.

Still drowsy, you took a few seconds, before opening your eyes and turning over halfway. Craning your neck to look at your teammate, you also saw it seemed fairly early still. There was barely any light outside. You could hear a distant fuss though. Giving a responsive "hm?", Caboose's lips twitched with that goofy, innocent grin of his. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed, likely from the chill of the room. Had it gotten even colder since you were last awake?

"The heat broke," he stated, his arms crossed over his chest as he rocked on his heels. Likely to keep warm. You nodded slightly as you sat up, keeping the blanket pulled up to you. "Reds did it."

"I figured," you mumbled, taking note Caboose seemed tired as well. His eyes drooped and his soft brown curls were more messy than usual, that too sweet for this world smile etched onto his face. His usual nonsensical babblings were now short and his voice was quiet, but seemed to want to coax something from you. 

You did always admire him, even if he did act childish usually and was too oblivious sometimes for his own good. And you knew that despite that, he was rather sweet, not to mention actually handsome with those scattered freckles and curled locks and wide blue eyes (which took you by surprise the first time you saw him from his helmet). And he had grown a bit attached to you; you figured it was just a friend thing for him, hell, you were unsure if this _fucking grown man who went though WARS_ (sometimes you had to remind yourself he was indeed grown) understood anything past friendship. You usually never strayed that far in your thoughts. And you wouldn't say anything due to this, knowing he was gullible and you didn't want to say something to accidentally trick him into something.

A sudden question you didn't quite hear fell from his lips, you snapping from your thoughts. You realised you had been staring. 

"What?" 

"Oh uh. Nevermind then!" Caboose dismissed rather quickly, making you wonder what he had even asked. He was already turning heel to leave.

You yawned slightly. "I didn't hear what you said." 

There was a moment of pause, hesitation tangible in his movements as he turned back around to you. With a clearing of his throat, he stumbled over his words a bit, before pushing the question forward. Louder this time.

"Would you like to sleep together?" 

It was only the innocence of his voice and knowing the person who that voice belonged to that kept your mind from the gutter. 

"Like...cuddling?" You questioned back, making sure this wasn't also Tucker having told Caboose more than you figured he should. An almost shy nod was returned from him, his thumbs fiddling nervously. 

"Yes. You are my friend, yes? And I need a cuddle buddy...it's so cold! And I think…" There was a pause as Caboose yawned. "...that you are nice. And warm. Can be that then? Cuddle buddies?"

You swallowed dryly, tired, but unable to find it in your heart to say no. "Cuddle buddies." You repeated back, earning another confirming nod. 

With an exhale and a tired smile, you scooted over on your bed. It was rather cold anyways. Without a moment's notice, you felt his weigh hurl onto your bed. Surprisingly strong arms firmly held you to his chest and pinned your arms at your sides. You couldn't help the already chilled flush from burning a brighter red, but you first wanted to reposition to get more comfortable. Being in this position made you remember just how tall he was.

"Thank you!" He practically purred out with his sleepy excitement, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His warmth breath spilled over your skin and oddly calmed you, as well being held so tight calmed you. 

"Oh um. Is this fine?" 

"Maybe a little less tight," you prompted, turning and wiggling slightly to get more comfortable once his arms loosened a bit. Your own arms curled around his back under his arms, fingers absentmindedly running through the locks that tapered on the back of his head. His grip around you, nearly a death grip, tightened again once you settled. That was fine. 

"Better?"

"Better."

Your heart thumped in your chest, as well with how close you were pressed, you were able to feel Caboose's heartbeat. It was faster than usual, making you wonder as you began to drift. Half awake, you could feel his grip never leaving and one of his hands practically petting or rubbing over your back. And you could feel he melted against your touch on his hair, prompting subconsciously to further drive your fingers into the mess of hair. You could feel how his breathing matched yours and how he radiated heat. Who needed a heater when you had Caboose? He said something, again not hearing, this time just giving a little tired "mhm". 

Caboose seemed sleepily happy as you closed your eyes, not paying attention as you felt him shift a little and no longer felt his even breath on your neck. The feeling of a clumsy kiss on your cheek jolted you back though into consciousness, face flushing again a deep red.

What had he asked?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just comment if you have a request for me to write.
> 
> Update to this: if you want to submit something, feel free to anonymously do so here!  
> (Copy and paste link below.)  
> http://freesuggestionbox.com/pub/akqsawa


	2. Doc & O'Malley - Head Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a bit stupid as I wrote this at 3 am, but wanted to explore a bit into Doc and O'Malley's inner interactions n relationship n such ! Set in season 13 and pretty much right after he gets found again and is brought back. Doc (and O'Malley) is probably my favorite character so as well not gonna lie. This also has many headcannons just pushed onto them I guess to fill in gaps. Is this entirely accurate? Maybe, maybe not. 
> 
> Interpret their relationship however you wish. I just wrote is as just two dudes chilling in a trauma brain, as you do.

They didn't always agree on things, but when spending far longer than Doc wanted to in that dimension he knew they'd have to just work it out, which O'Malley corrected him often with something reminiscent of a  _ you didn't want or deserve to be in there at all.  _ Just in O'Malley speak, which usually involved the liberal use of  _ fool _ and usually only ever hinted at what he meant through over the top and maniacal words. Still, Doc understood what he meant and he took some sort of comfort in that. Even if O'Malley was a generally maniacal and aggressive and mean person to everyone, he seemed to agree with the idea that since they shared a body, they should at least try to not tear  _ each other _ apart.  _ Play nice  _ as Doc often reminded him.

He didn't know what, or as O'Malley would also correct him  _ who!,  _ he was or why he was there. Well, he knew why. The years of being left behind and mistreated the way he was definitely took its toll. And oddly enough, he didn't consider the run in with the AI version to be the worst of it; hell, O'Malley then listened much more to him than those who Doc considered his friends did.

He couldn't be an alter of sorts, he was too old to form DID and a split personality (which he made sure to research when he first got the chance to the day he got back and was treated some at Armonia, which only left him more confused and with more questions as to what O'Malley was). Or was he still able to somehow? He didn't know. There wasn't much more research done the first night back other than that, O'Malley had bugged Doc to sleep as his body was shaking with how tired he was at 4 am. He didn't sleep all too well either for the few hours he did, him thinking the medical bed was uncomfortable and wanting to research, but listening anyways.

He thought O'Malley could be maybe just left over code woken up out of his brain reacting to the traumatic experience. Or maybe his brain forming a sort of delusion that served as a sort of alter ego instead of an alter, that the voice he often talked to in his head was his brain or himself or subconscious, what was the right word? just- he hadn't gotten further into his quickly spiraling and increasingly incoherent thoughts before O'Malley half tried to soothe Doc and half tried to fuss at Doc. Something like,  _ You fool, this isn't helping! Worry later, sleep now.  _ He listened to him and tried to sleep.

The grumbling voice usually wasn't afraid to voice his gripes with how the medic took care of himself or to snap him out of spiraling thoughts. Doc took some comfort in that. 

The present, the following day, felt suffocating. Many members of the Reds and Blues, the ex-freelancers especially, initially didn't take so kindly to O'Malley's presence. The memory of the AI in everyone's mind kept them on edge even after the initial unwelcome. Doc could tell from the odd looks and this certain avoidance unless necessary most people kept. He could tell in how in many of their voices forced out kindness that they felt awkward around him. Apart from Dr. Grey who had taken care of any of his medical needs. O'Malley held a dislike and immense distrust of her (though that was with most everyone) and although Doc before had always given people the benefit of the doubt, he found himself wary of trusting people, including her. He felt guilty over it, but was still being nice either way. 

A few times O'Malley had gotten quickly defensive and nearly aggressive in response to some reactions from the Reds and Blues, which didn't help with the situation. Doc had to mentally hold him by the reins and keep him back, trying not to let the egomaniac speak his mind. It was tiring and half way through the day he found his anxiety just gradually rising. 

_ Go find a quiet spot.  _ O'Malley somewhat ordered.

Doc now stood quietly at the edge of a group of some of his friends. Friends. He didn't know if that was true anymore and O'Malley certainly seemed convinced they weren't his friends. He had ignored his 'head friend' as he found himself thinking, in fact, everything sounded distant and he wasn't listening to whatever conversation he was standing around for. What even was the conversation? 

_ Something stupid, that's the conversation. _

Doc dryly swallowed as he finally seemed to drift his attention to O'Malley, his maniacal voice having the same effect as someone tugging on your arm to do something. He didn't respond though again despite his attention being drawn, a slight crease forming in his brow that he was thankful the others in the room hadn't noticed. Or well, he hoped they hadn't. He wasn't paying much attention either way to them. 

_ F- _

_ Okay okay.  _ Doc interrupted, letting out a sigh he thought was quiet, but seemed to turn the head of one or two of them for a split second. 

He opened his mouth to let them know he was leaving, but shut it as he figured that they didn't care much anyways and slipped off and down the hall from the opening area they had grouped in. He felt an odd pressure in his head, not necessarily a headache though. It felt weird, like being mentally compressed into a tight hold, the weight of it easing his beating heart some. Doc had learned not to bring things O'Malley did that were seemingly intentionally meant to calm him up, knowing he wasn't the best at acknowledging anything besides his wrath and that cartoony want to take over the world. _To send them_ _all to oblivion!_ he often said. Remembering that made Doc's lips twitched in an amused fashion, O'Malley then seemed to ease up in his mind when he could tell his...host? body sharer? ( _How about just head friend_ Doc interrupted. Furthermore, the fact that O'Malley was trying to figure out what Doc was to him, similar to what Doc was doing last night that the maniacal one was against him doing, was rather amusing as well to the medic. He wouldn't say anything though.) _...head friend_ was calmer. 

_ Head friend is a foolish name. _

Reaching that small medical bedroom of sorts he had spent the first night in, Doc pushed open the door and shut it behind him. He was told he could sleep there as long as he needed and he needed it now. Practically throwing his weight onto the bed, he let out an exhale. This time, a more comfortable sigh. 

"Do you have a better idea?" Doc asked, out loud now that nobody else was around. He liked verbally speaking when talking with O'Malley, even if he often only spoke back in his mind. Sometimes he was able to draw the villainous figure out to talk verbally when alone, though it looked much like he was talking with himself either way. He was met with a grumpy silence, it drawing a single exhausted mix of a huff and a chuckle from his chest. 

There was a comfortable silence that followed, O'Malley seeming to allow Doc a moment of, albeit still anxious and tired, peace to just curl into the pillows and covers that smelled of medical cleaning chemicals and dust. It wasn't a bad smell necessarily. 

Doc eventually was the one to accidentally coax O'Malley back again, tossing the idea of his friends around aga-

"Friends," O'Malley verbally scoffed into the pillow. "They aren't friends."

Doc shifted slightly, settling on his back and resting his hands onto his stomach. 

"We've talked about this, they are. People make mistakes, there's...there's a whole  _ war  _ going on that distracted them, I wasn't o-" 

"Doesn't matter! They were being idiotic, they could've found some way." O'Malley had a tendency to interrupt Doc, in thoughts and conversations. His voice leaving the man's lips came out in an aggravated tone. His wrath didn't sound directed at the medic though.

Doc sighed again, gaze trained on the ceiling. "I know."

O'Malley made it known without saying that he thought the other was sighing a lot as a side thought. It wasn't of importance though and Doc didn't seem to care anyways, brushing it off.

"I want to..to send them all to  _ oblivion _ , I want to tear them limb from limb." O'Malley went on for a good minute or so comically describing further what he wanted to do, making Doc grimace slightly, but he wasn't surprised at all. He found himself growing angry himself, unsure if that was just the other's anger bleeding into his own feelings or if it was his own. Hell, he didn't know if his 'head friend' was really a separate consciousness or just himself having an outlet for expressing the things he would usually never in a form of an alter ego. For his sake, hearing O'Malley viciously babble, he hoped that wasn't what he subconsciously wanted. He was starting to like the theory of leftover AI remnants going haywire.

"I know," Doc repeated in response once he heard O'Malley seem to finish his string of sentences. It was oddly amusing and he found himself used to and able to handle the behavior. 

"No you fool, you don't understand I wa-"

" _ No, _ I get it. They were mean and abandoned me," Doc paused, feeling a knot form in his throat at the thought, though that liberal use of the word _fool_ kept him amused and grounded for a split second. "Doesn't mean we have to be mean in return…!" 

"We should be getting revenge! You'd really just forgive them that easily?" O'Malley prodded mentally, as well Doc could've sworn he felt the ghost of a prod of a hand on his shoulder. 

Doc felt his face crinkle up, initially thinking it was O'Malley taking over and his anger. But no, that was Doc, hot and salty trails of tears starting to trickle down the sides of his face signifying that. Palms pressing into his eyes as he held back sobs, the usually purple armored man shook his head. No, he'd be nice, but he couldn't forgive them. Not yet. The overbearing feeling of terror and loneliness and helplessness washed over him in waves, a sob hiccuping out his lips. O'Malley seemed to, as he rarely did, refrain from speaking on his own accord, mentally sitting back and allowing Doc a few moments of just releasing repressed emotions. He didn't really know how to comfort the medic either, let alone express something akin to comforting. 

The villainous counterpart eventually thought about how  _ it was foolish to cry _ , that it'd be _ more productive to take a grenade launcher and blast them to bits. Out of sight, out of mind! Minds? _ Those thoughts oddly made a bittersweet enthused snort bubble from Doc's throat, it distracting him for a moment and allowing him to gradually ease. How long had he even been crying? 

Again, Doc felt that pressure mentally, the one that felt like a death grip of a begrudgingly given embrace. He didn't know if O'Malley held an ounce of caring or if he just didn't like to deal with him crying, or a mix of both, but he wasn't planning on asking and just settled his hands on his chest. Sniffling, another bout of silence ensued, this time with O'Malley's presence incredibly pronounced. His mind began to drift again, that pain threatening to return as his thoughts strayed on those traumatic experiences. His eyes welled again and his chest tightened and his-

"Frank." O'Malley sounded off and his voice coarse due to  _ that fool's _ crying as he took most of the control of the body to ease it, well, as much as he could. He was upset as well after all, unsure if that was just their emotions bleeding into each other or if he was defensive over his,  _ ugh, head friend _ . Doc's real name being used definitely caught the pacifist off guard and quickly brought his mind back to the present. 

He didn't respond, but mentally acknowledged his name being spoken.

"Forget them for now, we'll get our revenge someday! Now rest, we can plot later." O'Malley eased his iron grip control over the body, settling back and allowing Doc control again. He pulled the blanket more over himself and maneuvered onto his side, a small amused huff leaving his now stuffed up nose at the notion in almost unison with the iconic evil laugh echoing for a few seconds in his mind. 

"Alright, works for me," he mumbled somewhat sarcastically, but he knew he'd always humor and listen to O'Malley and his evil schemes, even if he was against them. He was feeling eased truly for the first time in a while. That mental hold or pressure remained unwavering; it felt like a squeezing embrace or one of those weighted blankets on his mind or like a hand scratching and running through his hair with a firm enough grip to tug and massage, but not enough to hurt. Doc slept fine for the first time in a while.

They didn't always agree on things, but when push came to shove, Doc was sometimes fine having O'Malley there in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: I had to fix a small thing said in this LMAO I got events jumbled up. Wasn't of much importance though.


	3. Locus/Caboose - Sniper Rifle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted some Locus/Caboose content, but it's a fairly rare pair, so yeah. This isn't exactly romantic, so if you want to take this as platonic feel free. Idk what i was going for. I also wanted something light hearted, but with some slight angst sprinkled in that two characters unlikely to bond end up inadvertently bonding over so. Well I combined the two so here take this dumb thing I wrote 
> 
> UPDATE I am so fucking bad at remembering shit. Caboose apparently used the sniper rifle in season 2 or something so I kind of fixed it but this whole fic might not make complete sense. I have dumb bitchitis and it is chronic ♡ just enjoy

Locus raised his brow behind his helmet at the question as he heard it fall clumsily from Caboose's mouth, him pausing as he lifted a bag from his ship, A'rynasea. He had planned to visit the Reds and Blues, having been invited, it was an opportunity to know them better; turns out the rather misfit gaggle of morons 'adopted' him into the 'family' so to speak. He was perfectly fine with that. 

"I don't...understand," he responded tentatively, trying to gauge the intent behind the request.

This was Caboose. On one hand, Locus had heard through many different stories of their misadventures that he had a knack for accidental team kills and generally messing up with dangerous weapons and such, so he feared he might accidentally hurt or kill someone. On the other hand, Locus also knew that Caboose never really meant to hurt anyone. Unless one of his friends was hurt by someone, then that was a different story. And he found his will to deny him the request was growing smaller as he turned and looked at those wide eyes. Puppy dog eyes. And he was the first person to greet him, welcoming grin and all.

"Well…! You know Church." Caboose paused, Locus had begun to notice he usually paused or stumbled a bit when remembering his friend or mentioning him. "He used a sniper rifle, but never let me use it other than maybe one time. And Tucker always said he's really…" There was another pause, before he corrected himself. "Was really, really, really bad with it. He always looked cool with it though! I want to look cool like Church...did. And you have one! And are good at it and also look cool! Can you show me how? Well, how to use it?" 

Ah, it was a _Church_ thing. He had to stifle a snort at the broken English he heard. Locus knew the others usually didn't indulge in Caboose whenever he did muse over his fallen friend, sore subject he supposed. He also knew that some days are worse than others when you lose someone and miss them, no matter how much of an asshole they may have been. He quickly tried to derail that train of thought and focus it back on the Caboose of that train. The ex-mercenary could tell the blue team member was having a bit of a rough day with it, not necessarily like he used to be apparently from what he heard whenever Church was gone, but still a bit longing and pained. Those types of days or moments, even if eventually becoming infrequent, would linger. He understood. 

But, as much as Locus wanted to give in, he knew Caboose was the very last person you'd want behind a fucking _sniper rifle._ He himself hadn't used it much since the whole... incident on Chorus, having sworn off killing and trying to avoid violence. 

Locus snapped from his thoughts as Caboose said his name, well, codename. Though at this point, what was the difference? Maybe...just maybe he could bring Caboose some comfort and show him how and use some cans or something as a target. He'd just have to be really careful.

"I...suppose so-" 

The deep voiced man choked on his words as the air was squeezed out of him, the blue armored one grasping him in a bear hug. Why was someone like Caboose so strong? He was met also with a wave of _thank you!_ 's before he was released and his feet touched the ground again. The realization he was even lifted from the ground didn't hit until he was planted back on it. 

"When do we start?" Caboose questioned enthusiastically, practically hovering in front of his face, his helmet. Locus swallowed down a nervous breath, glad he couldn't see his face behind the intimidating armor. He honestly usually didn't take it off around other people anyways as it is.

"Let me unpack some first," he responded, calm and deep voice remaining just like that as he hid the overwhelm he had felt for a moment. 

"Okay!" 

Caboose practically followed Locus around like a lost puppy, which the quiet man found himself not minding much, his chatter filling otherwise also quiet air when he wasn't talking with the other Reds and Blues. It reminded him somewhat of Felix and how he'd talk a lot, further remembering it being due to a mix of him liking to hear himself, wanting to fill silence when it fell between them, and being unable to shut up sometimes. Sometimes it'd be only one or the other, just depended on the day with his ex-partner. He sighed at the thought, doing so accidentally during the middle of the blue team member babbling on when his attention had faltered. Sometimes he just liked to hear people speaking, but not pay attention to the actual words when it wasn't something of importance and when his mind wanted to drift anyways. That wasn't always a good habit he picked up.

"What? You don't want to hear about the dinosaurs and the-"

"No, Caboose. I want to hear about it, sorry. I was just thinking. I'll pay more attention." He stated, setting a bag down by the bed he'd be sleeping in as he visited. 

"Thinking about what?" 

Locus stiffened his shoulders involuntarily as his movements halted for a good second. _Felix_ was the right answer. _A manipulative prick_ would've worked even better.

He clearly had taken too long to respond, Caboose adding on,"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, I think about my best friend sometimes still too. I feel sad about it and I don't want you sad, so if you want to go back to dinosaurs we can!" 

Locus realised then Caboose might be much more than even his teammates and himself took credit for, him looking over his tense shoulder at the curly haired goofball who was giving him a smile. He eased and gave a single curt and slow nod.

"Yeah. That'd be nice." And immediately his ears were bombarded with Caboose telling amusing stories, him now actually listening as he unpacked. 

Eventually Locus had brought Caboose to an elevated area overshadowing a field, one far from the place the group resided and that he himself was visiting. He figured if they were far from the rest of them, the less likely they'd be hurt from Caboose missing the target. He had set up a handful of empty soup and soda cans onto a rock in the field below, the sniper rifle on his back still as he kneeled down nearing the edge of the elevation. He watched carefully as the curly haired man sat with his legs criss-crossed next to him, looking expectantly at the ex-merc. Said ex-merc found his arm tense and ready to spring without meaning to, even subconsciously wanting to make sure the other wouldn't fall or that if he did slip or something, he could catch him. He knew he couldn't let anything happen to Caboose, so he might've been a bit too protective.

Clearing his throat, he reached over his shoulder and grabbed the weapon warily off his back. He didn't just hand it over to Caboose, taking a moment to think about how the hell to do this and not have them end up dead. He formulated a plan; just show him how to do it, help Caboose position the gun in a similar fashion to shoot a can off, then that'd be it. 

"I'll show you how I do it." He told the freckled other and shifted from his knees. Settling onto his stomach, he scooted to the edge of the cliff, gun snug in his grip and aimed towards the general area of the cans. Oh he hadn't been like this in a while, a guilty and anxious feeling washing over his mind. His shoulders stiffened again. _It's just a can..._

"We don't have to do this if you don't wanna! I can be cool like Church in other ways." The sitting one seemed to notice his unease, Locus sharply inhaling at this notion.

"No, Caboose. It's fine." He assured him, taking a leveling breath and settling. He carried on explaining, unsure if the full explanation would even reach the blue team member's ears and register in his brain. Still he did so. "I've found in the past that when using a sniper rifle, crouching or laying down on your stomach is favorable. You're not imbalanced like you might be standing and your arms are more steady. Therefore your aim is more steady."

"Usually Freckles does all the aiming for me." 

"It's not too hard at this range if you focus," Locus offered in response, trying to be encouraging. Though, it quickly hit him what he was encouraging again.

"Okay! Then I will focus." Caboose practically flopped his entire weight on the ground next to the ex-merc, a bit of debris from the sandy grass rising and causing him to sneeze. _Cute_. He seemed rather focused indeed as well, though he didn't know the extent to which this goof could focus. 

"Right, well. Laying also keeps you more hidden from the enemy when in battle."

"We aren't in battle right now are we?"

"No." Locus held back a humored exhale of his nose as he responded.

"Oh good! I'd be worried, since we'd be outnumbered. Six cans to two of us! Though I guess you're strong and can take them on."

Locus couldn't hold back the one laugh that escaped his lips, the sound feeling so foreign; it had been a while since he _laughed_. "No need to worry, Caboose. If the cans attack, I sure...that I can fend them off."

With that, he settled more into position, elbows propping his arms up and holding the weapon firmly. He could feel Caboose's sweet gaze burrowing into him; it was distracting, but he managed. He sucked in a breath quietly and aimed at a can on the far left, making sure the cursor was hovering over the object. Zooming in on the metal object, that breath he had held in, he let it out as he squeezed the trigger. A moment later the bullet that rocketed from the device hit the can, it likely having a huge shredded hole in it now; he didn't know, it was quickly flown off the rock and out of view in a second.

"Like that." He stated, looking back at Caboose who had wide eyes that seemed to sparkle in awe. Chest suddenly feeling tight, he looked back at the cans. 

"Can you show me again without that helmet? I left mine at the base and I wanna know how to do it without a helmet. Plus, yours is all fancy!" The merc nearly jolted at the request, gaze snapping back onto the optimistic man beside him as he tried to see if he was serious. _Oh,_ so he was serious. 

"It's... not that different."

"But what if it is?" 

"It really isn't. It's still just using sight, which either way isn't changed. I don't...understand the logic behind your request."

Caboose went silent, a slight pout edging on his lips. He seemed disappointed, but didn't comment on that obvious and childish disappointment. Ah dammit. 

"You don't have to, I understand!" The curly haired one then stated, pout shifting to an understanding smile. _Ah dammit._

Locus didn't respond, sitting up and clutching onto his weapon sideways, unreadable behind his armor. He found himself burning up and unable to not indulge Caboose on his requests; they were simple enough and he figured no harm would come from it, even if they seemed pointless and made no sense sometimes. Setting the weapon to the side, the other seemed dejected again as he thought he had pissed off the ex-merc enough to no longer want to show him how to use the type of weapon Church used, that he was about to fuss at him and tell him off. Said ex-merc instead reached his hands up and grasped the sides of his helmet, pulling it up as the faint hissing sound of air releasing followed. The armor piece was taken off, set to the side in the dry grass. 

That was the first time in a long while he had shown himself to someone other than Felix. Caboose seemed happy, so he was fine taking it off now. Not like the others were around and Locus had to admit that the one before him was the most accepting of them, most likely to extend open arms to anyone. Even him. 

"Right, well, I'll show you again." His voice sounded less intimidating without the filter, still chilled and deep, but less bass to it. Locus didn't say anything revolving around him taking off his own helmet, exposing his tired and strong features. A scar crossing over his face and meeting at the bridge of his nose, a permanent crease in his brow, and dark hair that had started to grow out a bit from the shorter style he had kept it at. He wanted to grow it out again, missing how it looked tied back. Felix had once made an offhand comment a year or so back about missing the look as well. At the time, he didn't see the need to care about such things; now he busied himself with such things. Only Caboose's warm gaze and dimples that formed with his bright and goofy grin kept his thoughts from straying too far. 

He shifted back to the position he had been in, eyes trained on the next target on the left through the rifle's screen. The other's gaze was palpable as it seemed to focus on his face this time instead, unwavering in its warmth. What? Did he just want to see his face? The cursor wavered until it focused in on the next can and he repeated his actions. Four remained, hoping that Caboose might be able to shoot down one. 

"Think you can handle it?" Locus sat up, sitting on his knees and hesitantly holding out the weapon to the friendly figure that shot up from his stomach and snatched it eagerly, much too eager for the ex-merc's comfort. He closed his eyes for a moment, resting them as he explained. 

"I recommend either crouching or laying like you just were. Do what you saw me do-Caboose!" He opened his eyes and immediately felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

The man was holding it, though clearly in an oblivious way, pointed at himself as he inspected it. Locus was quick to reposition it in the other's hands so it was held correctly and not pointed at anyone, his grip remaining over the other's big soft hands as he spoke.

"Don't hold it like that again." He muttered in an exasperated tone, the quick action to did to jerk the gun into a proper position having startled the other some. Noticing this, the dark haired one retracted his hands and cleared his throat. "I don't know who taught you to hold a gun, but don't point it at anything or anyone you don't want to shoot. Or that others may not want shot."

"So aim if it's the enemy or big scary monsters?"

"I don't think there's any enemies nearby nor do I think you'll have to deal with any, or monsters, for a while, but...yes."

Caboose seemed to understand the concept easily and decided to mimic Locus and how he did it, dropping back to his stomach and holding it tight to him. The ex-merc couldn't help himself but to help in every little detail, reaching and grabbing at the other's hands and sliding them into a better position, pulling his elbows so they were at a better angle, and positioning the gun better against him. The blue armored one held no complaints as this was done. 

"It has a bit more kickback than the usual rifle you use, just so you're aware." He caught himself doting over the taller man, having to remind himself that Caboose could handle his own when push came to shove. There was nothing to worry about. He'd be fine. "Just aim and gently squeeze the trigger. Take your time." 

Caboose stuck his tongue out to the side as he focused, the bridge of his nose creasing as his face somewhat scrunched. Him focusing was a bit overdramatic, but cute. He aimed, then fired, missing the can by a few feet. 

"Aw dangit," Caboose murmured impatiently, glancing to Locus with an expectant look, needing some help.

And Locus did help, him trying to be gentle as he repositioned the other's arms again. He wasn't surprised that he missed, in fact, he expected it. It was a good thing that they were in a secluded area and not around the rest of them who could end up shot. 

"Take a deep breath in when you aim, then let it out when you fire. It helps to keep your aim balanced." Locus prompted.

This time, he sunk down next to Caboose and helped him aim, hands over his as he guided him to aim at the next can. And the curly haired one didn't seem to mind, his eyes flickering back and forth between Locus's face that was settled beside his and the viewfinder of the weapon. Once the cursor was hovering over the third can, the ex-merc's hands retracted, but he remained on his stomach next to his freckled companion. 

"So like this?"

Locus nodded in response, finding his own eyes trained on Caboose's soft features and him drawn to the warmth, both in attitude and physically, radiating off of him. He nearly slipped into his thoughts surrounding them, before the sound of the gun firing jolted him out of it. 

"I got it!" The curly haired man gleamed, sitting up excitedly. Indeed, a can had been shot off of the rock. 

"Good job, now c-" His words were cut off as he sat up and felt weight flung against him, a pair of too strong for their own good arms squeezing around his torso and a face buried in the plating on his chest.

Locus blinked uneasily, looking down at the pleased figure with a tight hold on him and then the gun tossed off to the side in the brittle and sandy grass. It reminded him of back when he was aiding in rescuing them from that whole _Temple_ situation; Caboose had hugged him much similarly to now, but that time he was uncomfortable and not too keen on returning it. This time, his arms practically acted on their own as they settled around the other man and gave a few meek pats on his shoulder blade through the blue plating. 

"Thank you for showing me how to use the rifle thing! You seem big and scary, but you're a kind Locus. Locust is what your name is from right? Why? What's a locust again?" Caboose somewhat babbled, mind clearly derailing.

"A bug," the ex-merc simply responded, a smile twinging at the corner of his lips. "And no, my...name isn't based on a _bug._ " 

"Oh. Then what is it based on?"

Locus's lips pulled into a frown for a second, before he realised he was still being held onto, which eased him some. His actual name was nothing to him anymore, well, was nothing to him. Locus had been derived from his armor. It also had to do with mathematics and a set of factors coming together to complete a task, but he knew that was 1) a part of him he was trying to move away from and 2) Caboose might not understand that. Just keep it simple.

"My armor, moreso the helmet." He responded frankly, trying not to lie to him, but still simplifying it.

"So that's not your real name?"

"Technically it's not." Locus shifted slightly so that one of his arms propped himself up, the other still draped around his blue friend.

"What is it? Oh wait, let me guess! Ace? That's cool right? Is it S-"

" _Caboose_. Maybe I'll tell you some day what it is, but I…" Locus interrupted, though found himself trailing off. 

"Okay." Caboose simply accepted that, no questions asked, with a grin and unwinded his arms from the hold they had on the ex-merc. Hell, he had forgotten that hold the rather optimistic blue team member had on him; he found himself almost sad without it. What amazed him was how accepting this barely a soldier was; always seeming to give people second or third chances, not prying too much when he seemed to get the feeling Locus was uncomfortable, even just embracing him. It made him feel warm and fuzzy in the chest, something he thought he had forgotten how to feel. He couldn't quite name it now. 

"Can I shoot the rest? On my own this time?" Caboose asked, head slightly tilted. The quiet man who he was questioning took notice he tilted his head ever so slightly when asking questions.

"Go for it," he mused back, leaning on both hands now. Still, he watched carefully to make sure no harm came to the other.

Grabbing the rifle again, Caboose sunk back down on his stomach and spent a good twenty or thirty minutes trying to shoot off the remaining three cans. Any attempts to help him were met with protests that he 'wanted to do it on his own.' Locus was content to sit back and let him try, enthused by the stubborn behavior he saw. Sometimes they'd talk, sometimes there'd be comfortable silence between them. Sometimes they'd talk about Church. The one sitting back and relaxing didn't mind hearing the one still perched on his stomach ramble about his deceased friend. It seemed to help him anyways to reminisce, so why not entertain and indulge him? There were a few questions Caboose ended up posing about Locus's ex-partner that were scattered throughout the midst of the conversations, which he found himself usually able to answer, though only out of the want to help the childish man. Still, the responses began short and without detail. It ended up feeling cathartic for himself though, finding himself to be answering any questions thrown his way with ease and finding a weird sense of calm as he began to explain more when asked about the man he used to know. He wasn't pried for answers either, so he felt comfortable with the knowledge that he could refuse to answer if he so desired. It put him at ease to know he had a choice.

For the most part, he just sat back and watched, a contented smile curled on his lips that Caboose had been the first person to witness in far too long. Eventually his silly companion was able to strike the last one off the rock they had been pedestaled on top of, seeming rather happy and consoled as he erupted in positive excitement over his 'victory'. For the moment, Locus felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may post more of the drabbles I've wrote if anyone really wants em but yeah


End file.
